


In the Gravity of You

by Blackberreh



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Ghosts, M/M, Spark Bonds, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackberreh/pseuds/Blackberreh
Summary: Optimus Prime is killed in a terrorist attack that brings the city of Nyon - and the rest of Cybertron forthwith - crumbling down. The Lord High Protector is left struggling to keep their society from spiraling while also hunting down the ones responsible for the death of their Prime - and his Conjux Endura.Not only that, but he also has to deal with the new baby Prime, who seems to be struggling with his new role, and the weight he now carries on his shoulders. Hot Rod - now Rodimus Prime - didn't truly know what accepting the Matrix would entail, and with the dead former Prime talking in his head, he thinks surely this should be easy... right?
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime, Megatron/Optimus Prime/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 24
Kudos: 170





	In the Gravity of You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all. This here fic has been bouncing around in my head for months, and I finally got about trying to write it LOL. This chapter's super duper short, it just being an into and all for set up, but I hope you guys like it!!!

There was something dripping.

The sound resonated through the dank tunnel, and Hot Rod wanted to cover his audials, but to do so he would have to let go of the large frame he was trying to do his level best to support. It was extremely  _ difficult _ , considering the mech was almost double his size.

But Hot Rod was nothing if not determined. He might be small, and young, and way out of his depth, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

He couldn’t.

“You should leave me.” The larger mech rasped against Hot Rod’s audial. “We… lost our pursuers, however - there is still a chance-”

“No!” Hot Rod protested emphatically, spoiler hiking high in agitation. “Hell no! The frag, you - they’re after you! If I leave you here you’ll - you’ll definitely die!”   
  
_ And he had a feeling he would be accused of treason _ , he didn’t say out loud. But that - that really wasn’t why he was doing this. He wasn’t doing this out of fear of punishment, he was doing this because - because -

_ It was the right thing to do. _

The mech let out a rasping cough, vents rattling. The explosion had left them covered in numerous cuts and scrapes, but he - the Prime -

It was hard to ignore the large piece of jagged metal piercing his side. Nor the trail of energon they left as they moved.

He was in rough shape. If Hot Rod didn’t get him to a medic soon…

“Hot Rod.” Optimus Prime rasped. The smaller mech’s frame almost buckled - his tone was heavy, almost as heavy as the weight Hot Rod was trying to haul around. “Please.”   
  
Hot Rod - he couldn’t anymore -

His legs crumbled beneath him, and he and Optimus Prime fell to the ground with a large clang. The noise seemed to echo through the tunnels, and Hot Rod sucked in a rasping vent, laying spread-eagled beneath Optimus’ large frame, stunned. It took - too long to react. His processor reeled. Primus, he was  _ tired _ .

“Slag - P-Prime-” He patted at Optimus’ side and arm, where he could reach. There was no movement, and all Hot Rod could hear was the rasping of air moving through the Prime’s vents. _ He was so heavy _ . “Prime - are you alright? Can you move?”

Prime’s engine rumbled faintly. A groan sounded, and the sound of metal scraping against metal. He began to move, slowly and painfully, allowing Hot Rod to scrabble out from underneath him. Hot Rod moved to help him, to help pull him back up, but the Prime was dead weight - he toppled over onto his side with a cry, and Hot Rod was horrified to see that the piece of metal had lodged itself in deeper.

He fell to his knees by the Prime’s side, pressing shaking servos to the wound. There was no way he could stop the leaking - he wasn’t a medic, was far from it! He was an  _ entertainer _ , he only knew how to fix the most minor of injuries-

“Hot Rod.” Prime rasped. A heavy servo pressed over his own shaking ones - so big compared to his own, so  _ gentle _ . “Please. I need… you to do something for me.”

Hot Rod looked over at the Prime’s face. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting but it looked like his frame was  _ greying _ , and despair curdled Hot Rod’s spark. It had to be a trick of the lighting. It had to.

The Prime’s optics were dim. His face was covered in soot and splashes of energon, a side of his helm caved in, audial fin gone entirely. He was in such a sorry state, but still, he had the energy to look at Hot Rod and  _ smile _ . He didn’t know how, but Hot Rod found it in himself to smile back. It was trembling, strained, and he said, “Hey Prime. Yeah - yeah I can do whatever you need me to. What-” His voice glitched, and he had to cycle his vocaliser through a reboot. “What do you need?”

A great sigh escaped the Prime, his optics cycled closed - and Hot Rod let out a startled gasp as the center of Optimus’ chest plating began to part. The dim little maintenance tunnel they had been trying to escape through was suddenly bathed in a brilliant blue light, and for a moment Hot Rod had to shield his optics from the blinding glow.

“I need… you to take the matrix.” Came Optimus’ strained voice. Hot Rod lowered his servo, squinting his optics - and he saw it then. The - the legendary Matrix,  _ right there _ , nestled within Optimus Prime’s chest compartment, mingling with the living… the  _ fading _ energy of the Prime’s spark.

_ No _ -

He opened his mouth, an instant, vehement denial on his glossa, but Optimus didn’t take any heed. His large servo curled around Hot Rod’s, raising it, and he continued speaking. “I… I believe it was not mere luck that you happened to be where you were. At the time of the explosion, I… During the battle… Hot Rod. You showed great courage. You acted bravely when you decided to help me. You were quick on your pedes, your determination to get me to safety is beyond admirable, and I believe there is something… something great within you. You just… need the chance to - to let it shine-”

He let out a rasping cough. Hot Rod was alarmed to see the Prime’s spark  _ flicker _ , and he couldn’t - he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t -

“I wish we had met under better circumstances.” Prime murmured, voice laced with static, mouth twisted into a weary grin. The grin immediately dimmed. "And I am sorry that I must put this burden upon your shoulders. You are so young… I feel as if I am trapping you in a future where you will suffer." He let out a rattling vent. "But I feel… if given the chance...you could do truly great things… please…"

The grip on Hot Rod's servo was weakening. He tugged Hot Rod closer - placing his servo onto the pulsing Matrix. It was hot to the touch, almost burning, throwing with - with  _ something _ . Something that set his sensornet on edge. Something  _ powerful. _

The Prime held his servo there, grip tight. Hot Rod couldn't pull away even if he tried. He was frozen in place, optics fixated on the powerful, ancient artefact that so few got to see, left alone touch.

"Please…" Optimus said again. His voice was barely audible, optics offline. His spark, beneath the glow of the matrix, was dimming. "Please do this for me, Hot Rod…"

His servo fell, losing strength. His entire frame shuddered. A low mumble that Hot Rod had to strain to hear, "Tell… Megatron… love…"

The spark flickered, giving one final, desperate flare - before it seemed to disperse, small flickers of light fading into nothing, and the Prime went limp.

Optimus Prime was dead.

And the Matrix now called to its new bearer.

There was a heavy pressure in the air around Hot Rod. Something thrummed through the currents, electric and heady, pulling him forwards. Calling without a voice, without words. Telling him to  _ claim it _ .

Hot Rod ceased venting, his engine stalling. He brought his other servo up, raising on his knees - almost climbing onto the former Prime's graying frame in order to grasp the matrix.

His servos curled around it, electricity sparking between the contact points. The Matrix flared, bright and mournful but joyous, and the despair and dread that had been permeating Hot Rod's frame  _ shifted _ . It didn't disappear. It didn't go away. It was merely  _ pushed down _ , making room for the overwhelming surge of elation that the Matrix seemed to sing to him.

_ Welcome, Hot Rod. _ It sang.  _ Welcome, welcome home. _

_ You are ours. _

_ As we are yours. _

_ Welcome. _

_ Welcome. _

Hot Rod's face felt wet. Coolant streamed from his optics. He moved unsteadily to his pedes, clutching the Matrix like it was a lifeline. He didn't know what to do - didn't know what he should do - but his frame seemed to know instinctually. It felt like his spark swelled, bright and full of yearning, and the plating on his chest parted. His spark  _ wanted _ , reaching for the Matrix with a desperate  _ need _ , and only knowing that he needed to fulfill that need more than anything else - more than anything he had ever wanted - Hot Rod brought the Matrix to meet his spark.

At that moment, Hot Rod was overwhelmed. He felt  _ so much, all at once, joy, pleasure, comfort, fear, rage, peace -  _ a presence, unfamiliar and all powerful flooded his frame, sinking into lines and circuits and struts - into his very spark, and it nestled there, making itself at home. It was so much - too much - it overshadowed his own self. Hot Rod was but a mere insignificant spark compared to the supernova that was this presence, and Hot Rod - Hot Rod -

Hot Rod became no more.

* * *

Halfway across the planet in the city of Iacon, amidst a surge of panicked mechs desperately trying to find their Prime, the Lord High Protector went still.

His voice, which had been shouting commands and demanding answers, died. Blue optics, bright with anger and fear as no answers were forthcoming, went dim. 

A shaking servo pressed against his chassis, right over his spark. Shaking claws scratched over the metal, the action painful - but the pain didn't register.

Nothing registered beyond the unbearable, overwhelming feeling of  _ emptiness. _

He stared down at the ground, expression vacant, uncomprehending. Unable to believe in what he was actually feeling.

He knew logically what that emptiness must mean. 

But it wasn't clicking. It seemed impossible. 

Optimus… no, surely… surely he couldn't be…

"Lord Megatron! We found him!" A voice pierced through the fog beginning to cloud his processor. Megatron cycled his optics, raising his helm to look at the mech excitedly standing by the console. "In one of the maintenance tunnels on the west side of Nyon's underground! Our mechs are going to collect him now."

There was a comforting pat on his arm as another mech came up beside him, a relieved grin on his face. "It's alright now, My Lord. We'll have him home safe, don't you worry."

Megatron curled his servo into a fist. 

Optimus was dead.

His Conjux was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think :") Comments are super appreciated!
> 
> \--
> 
> For more art and social stuff, follow me on:
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/BlackberrehArt
> 
> Tumblr: https://blackberreh-art.tumblr.com/


End file.
